Outside the Uchiha clan compound.
The lamplight along the avenue pooled like small moons, and cicadas murmured beneath the eaves. Minato slowed beside the gate, his white cloak lifting at the hem as the evening breeze threaded through the cedar-lined street.
"Sasuke-kun's words," Minato said, turning to Yun with a knowing, gentle look, "must have been taught by you, Yun—right?"
Yun opened his mouth, but Minato's smile arrived first. He nodded, accepting his own answer. "Actually, what you said is very true. Without the sacrifices of those people, there would be no Konoha—let alone me, the Hokage."
Yun's gaze slid toward the dark mass of the Memorial Stone district, then back to Minato. "Hokage-sama and the generation before him, unlike Third Hokage-sama… you're very different."
Minato cocked his head, genuine curiosity lighting his eyes. "Different how? I'm actually very curious how a genius like you, Yun, views me—as the Fourth Hokage."
Yun thought for a long beat. The night air tasted like resin and stone. "How long ago did you know about Orochimaru using village shinobi for human experimentation?"
Silence stepped between them, brief but heavy.
'How long ago?' The question opened a corridor of memories that Minato rarely walked. Kinoe—taken in from Root, reassigned to the Fourth's direct Anbu, an origin report delivered with trembling composure. A boy grown from a stolen seed, living proof of a crime committed in the village's shadow.
Minato's shoulders eased as he let out a quiet breath. "A long time ago." he admitted. "When Kinoe reported his origins to me, I already knew about Orochimaru's situation."
He looked down the empty lane. "But Orochimaru was the Third's student. One of the Legendary Sannin. He had immense prestige in the village. You've heard, I'm sure—he even competed for the position of Fourth Hokage."
Yun said nothing. The night pressed in, listening.
"In those circumstances," Minato continued, "I relied on a few absolutely trustworthy subordinates in my direct Anbu to start tracing the locations of his labs. Quietly." He met Yun's eyes. "Carefully."
The Fourth's words settled like ash. Under lush, sun-fed leaves, the roots could still rot; no passerby could read the sickness underground. Orochimaru—war hero through the Second and Third Great Ninja Wars—no one wanted to believe he would use Konoha shinobi as fodder for experiments. And even if it were true, without catching him with blood on his hands, judgment could not be passed. Not with the Third Hokage's lingering affection for a student he once believed would inherit his dream.
Yun's mind flicked back to the lab's stink of chemicals and scorched paper. The Fourth had deployed more than a dozen masked operatives; not all wore the pattern of Anbu Team Six. By contrast, the Third had arrived with only two at his back.
'So that's how you balanced it.' Yun thought. 'Two different answers to the same truth.' In that instant, the picture sharpened.
"I trust Fourth Hokage-sama." Yun said at last.
The answer unknotted a line at the corner of Minato's mouth. He smiled, a small, relieved thing—then vanished in a ripple of displaced air, the seal-scented pop of space folding in on itself as he used Flying Thunder God Technique.
Yun stood a moment longer beneath the arch of the gate, listening to the hush close around the place where the Hokage had stood. Then he turned, walked back through the compound paths, and headed home—home for now meaning Uchiha Mikoto's house.
…
The paper screens glowed warmly. Laughter—soft, unguarded—floated into the corridor.
The two best friends, reunited properly after long seasons of duty and grief, had slipped finally into the ease that only old bonds allow. After Minato and Yun left earlier, they grew even more relaxed. Mikoto disappeared into the inner room and returned with two small bottles of sake and a pair of thin porcelain cups.
"Cheers!" Kushina grinned.
*Clink*
The cups kissed, and the two women drank.
On the tatami, little Sasuke and little Naruto traded bewildered looks. Their mothers were radiant, smiling in that way kids don't often see—like the world, for this one moment, was safe enough to lower every guard.
Naruto leaned closer, whispering, "What tasty stuff are they drinking that they won't share? Do you know where it is?"
Sasuke followed the path of his mother's steps with his eyes, toward the back room she'd just left. He crept to the doorframe, peered inside, then glanced back and motioned urgently: Come.
The boys slipped into the inner room like a pair of conspirators, closing the panel just enough to hide their small shapes.
Tipsy and effervescent, the women didn't notice the two shadows. Mikoto's smile thinned; she brushed a fingertip beneath her lashes and caught a tear before it fell.
"Ever since Fugaku left," she said, voice small only in that first syllable, "there's been all sorts of talk in the clan. It's only now I can talk to you like this for a while."
Kushina looped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "Although those people talk a lot of nonsense, but… but Fugaku-san was indeed brought to that tragedy because of Naruto's birth." The words hurt even as she forced them through. She bowed her head. "Mikoto, I'm sorry."
Mikoto shook her head, meeting her friend's eyes with calm that had learned to stand on broken ground. "As the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki, you represent the village itself. Fugaku died for Konoha. I can understand that."
She exhaled. "It's just… Itachi and Sasuke…"
Yes. In the end, Itachi and Sasuke lost their father. And Sasuke—only just beginning to form memories—had the absence set as the foundation of his world.
Kushina stared into the clear pool of sake in her cup and drank it down. A vow coiled in her chest: if she ever found the enemy responsible for that night, she would break every bone in their body—slowly.
At the doorway of the inner room, two small heads withdrew like startled cats. On the tatami inside, a sake bottle rocked slightly where it had been lifted from its place. Sasuke sagged onto the floor, the bottle set before his knees, ignoring Naruto's scrambling fuss beside him.
Naruto's face tightened with something he couldn't name. At just over three years old, his world was a handful of truths and a fistful of rumors. The sentence he'd overheard felt like a blade he was somehow holding by the edge.
"Sa… Sasuke…" he said, helpless.
Sasuke slowly lifted his eyes. They were red-rimmed again, but not because he was a child—because he was fighting not to be one. "Is it… because of… you?" He stared at the bottle. "That's why I don't have a dad…"
The words fell in a low place and didn't echo.
Naruto grabbed the bottle with both hands, worked the stopper free, and took a gulp as if punishment and penance could be swallowed.
*Pff—cough, cough, cough!!*
The burn smacked his throat; tears and snot spilled in a comical, miserable mess. He shoved the bottle forward with stubborn, loyal hands. "We're best friends!"
Sasuke took it as if accepting a sword. He tilted it back, swallowed, then folded over into the same choking fit as Naruto. The warmth sizzled down his small chest, an ember against the cold in his stomach. The tremor in his shoulders eased. His eyelids grew heavy, the room going soft at the edges.
'Yes… We are best friends.' The thought came quiet, firm. He slumped to the tatami and drifted. Naruto slid with him, the two of them collapsing into a knot of elbows and foreheads and sleepy snuffles until their breathing matched.
'Because of you… I lost my father. So… you owe me…'
Under the frame of the door, Kushina leaned her shoulder into the wood and watched them—two little boys asleep in each other's arms, a sake bottle like a ridiculous banner planted beside them. The night hummed. Beside her, Mikoto swayed, tipsy warmth lifting the corners of her mouth—until her eyes snagged on the bottle.
"This is… they actually drank alcohol?!"
Kushina picked it up and gave it a brisk, practical slosh. "It's fine. The two little rascals only had a tiny bit. They'll be fine after a good sleep."
She slipped an arm around Mikoto's waist, and with blurred, fond eyes murmured, "In this pose, if they were a boy and a girl, shouldn't we be sending out wedding invitations to the whole village tomorrow?"
Mikoto's cheeks flushed; she tsked. "What time is it for jokes?" But there was laughter in the exasperation. She glanced toward the window. "It's late. If you don't go back, Hokage-sama will be worried."
Kushina spread her hands. "At this hour? It's not even certain Minato has gone back himself." She huffed a quiet laugh. "I used to want to be Hokage. Now I think being Hokage is too tiring."
Mikoto rolled her eyes with affection, then stepped forward, scooped Naruto up with practiced gentleness, and handed him into Kushina's arms. "Alright, alright. Hurry back."
Kushina drew the boy close and sighed—then smiled. "Since we've finally opened this door again, I'll come and play with you often from now on."
Mikoto nodded. "The Uchiha's situation is much better now. We can get together often."
They walked quietly to the gate together. The air had cooled; a cat skittered along the fence's top and vanished into dark leaves. After seeing Kushina and little Naruto off, Mikoto returned to the inner room. She lifted Sasuke, felt his small weight fold against her shoulder, and carried him to bed. She laid him down, tucked the blanket, smoothed his hair back from his forehead.
She bent close. "Get along well with Naruto from now on, Sasuke." she whispered, voice like a promise. "Just like Mama and Aunt Kushina—always the best of friends."
*****
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I am working on the following projects:
✓ Killed For 100 Years in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Invited Me To Soul Society!
✓ Naruto: Senmei Asahi
✓ Naruto: Uchiha's Intelligence Dealer
✓ Naruto: The Fifth Hokage Is Naruto's Uncle
✓ Naruto: Who Made Him a Ninja?
✓ Bleach: In My Second Reincarnation, I Became The Ninth Kenpachi
✓ To Love-Ru: Spoiler Route [R-18]
✓ Naruto: The Accidental Incubus [R-18]
✓ The Academy's Saint Is Too Popular, But He's Not the Protagonist [R-18]